


Roger is Not Fucking the Cheeseman

by emma_and_orlando



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Bad Flirting, Cheese, Cheese Lore, Flirting with Cheese, Fluff and Humor, Gossip, Idiots in Love, M/M, Smuggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma_and_orlando/pseuds/emma_and_orlando
Summary: Rumor around town is that Roger is fucking the cheese smuggler for discounts.
Relationships: Chris "Crystal" Taylor/Roger Taylor
Comments: 22
Kudos: 31





	Roger is Not Fucking the Cheeseman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetestsight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetestsight/gifts).



> This is for the loveliest, kindest most amazing and beautiful Em❤️ Truly deeply appreciate you and everything you stand for. I hope you have a lovely birthday ❤️ and for you to have many many more.
> 
> And thank you for this wonderful insane fic idea
> 
> For everyone else reading this, thank you 😘

"We're doing tea at yours on Saturday then?"

" _Yes, yes. I'll have some leftovers from dinner with my parents tonight. Kash is graduating._ "

"Congratulate her for me." Roger holds the phone between his neck and shoulder as he busies himself wiping the crumbs from his lunch off the countertop. "Looking forward to your mums cooking."

" _I'll tell her that. She's been asking when you're coming by again_."

"When you're going to invite me—”

He falls silent when from the corner of his eye Roger sees the familiar white van roll up to his driveway. 

"I have to go." He announces immediately. 

" _Alright! See you on Saturday, dear_."

"Bye, Fred." Roger scrambles to put the phone back against the housing on the wall. It doesn't click in place and instead clatters against the wall when it dangles down by the cord. Roger does not bother picking it up. He rushes to the front door to open it before Crystal has to knock. 

He slings the door open in a rush of air and wind. 

Crystal pauses mid-step with a taken aback frown. Roger's eyes are on his sweet honey eyes first, and on the brown bag in his hands second. 

"I've got your package." He says.

There is a brief pause in which Crystal looks over his shoulders to make sure nobody is looking, before he holds it out to Roger. 

Roger takes the package from him and pushes it out of sight, behind his back. "Is everything in there?" Crystal nods. "How much is it?"

"Sixty-two."

That's too low. Rogers brow furrows and he opens the bag to make sure Crystal did get him his whole order. 

The dealer crosses his arms and pointedly clears his throat to get Rogers attention. "Everything is in there."

Roger stops rummaging in the bag and holds it under his arm. His frown deepens. "Sixty-two? But that's not—” 

Crystal again clears his throat. "A small discount." 

"A— Oh?" Roger blinks. No, he _gapes_. He's never heard of such a thing, a discount on illegal goods. But he is smart enough to not look a gift horse in the mouth. He wipes the frown off his face and allows a small smile instead. He reaches around himself to take the crumpled bills from his jean pocket. "Thank you, Chris." 

"No problem." Arms still crossed, Crystal shrugs. "Like I said, 'is just a small discount."

Roger's face overheats without his permission. He suddenly realizes how flustered he is, not entirely sure why. 

"When will I see you again?" _Fuck_. "I mean... When does the next shipment come in?"

"Thursday. As per usual." Crystal at least has the decency to bite his smile back at Rogers awful cover up. "Goodbye Roger."

"Goodbye, Chris." Roger calls after him, but Crystal is already turned his back to him. 

🧀 🧀 🧀

Roger is the last to arrive at the pub. He finds Brian and John seated close to the bar in a boot, looking over the new menu with sour expressions.

As he walks over, Roger is starting to unbutton his jacket, drawing the eyes in the room to him. 

"Hey guys." He greets the pair and throws his jacket over the back of the boot before flopping down next to Brian. "What's the long face for?"

Brian wordlessly slides the plastic menu over to Roger. Without his glasses, it is difficult to read, but Roger squints at the font anyway until through his blurry vision he sees exactly what has pissed his friends off so much.

"Cheese prices have gone up again. Bastards." Brian grumbles under his breath. 

"That's what happens if the demand grows." John says in a dark, sober way that threatens to bring down Rogers mood as well as anyone within a six-feet radius. "Remember when you could get a bloody cheesecake for a couple of quid? Those were the days.” 

Unwilling to listen to all this boring self loathing, Roger shuts the menu and slams his hand on the sticky table before he gets up.

He reaches for his wallet in his jacket."My treat for drinks tonight." And he leans in close so only Brian and John could hear him. “I might have smuggled in some Gouda we can eat with our drink.” He winks at tips his chin to his jacket. 

"You look quite chipper today." John instantly suspects something is up. He narrows his eyes. "Since when do you have the money to buy rounds?" 

"No reason." Roger beams. He ignores their dumbfounded stares to walk over to the bar and order a beer for each.

🧀 🧀 🧀

Roger fluffs up his hair in the mirror until satisfied with the volume. He stares at his own reflection, who stares back at him while he rubs the perfume on his wrists. 

That's when the bell rings and he all but leaps across the house to get to the door. 

It takes a beat longer while he is earing his tightest jeans, but Roger prides himself for the speed in which he waddles through the hallway. 

"Chris." Roger flings he door open with a boyish smile. "Hi."

He must have been waiting for a while, because the dealer is already holding the package out to him and hands it to Roger immediately. His face is frustratingly unreadable, perfectly neutral, almost bored in his nonchalance. If Roger did not take note of him lingering by the front door after Roger hands him the money, he wouldn't have guessed Crystal had any interest in him at all. "Everything alright?"

"Taxes have gone up again," Crystal engages as he pockets his money, much to Rogers delight. "Meaning business is better, but work has intensified. I can't complain though."

"I see." Roger leans against the doorpost, trying and failing to appear casual if the upwards quirk of Crystals lip has anything to do with that. "I suppose all the good ones will be higher in demand now?"

"I try to keep the costs steady, but availability will vary, yes."

Crystal shrugs. Roger's eyes are drawn to his bulky arms, before they dart up to his eyes again. 

"Don't worry too much," Crystal adds. "I put a little something in there for you." He says, pointing with his thumb to the package under Roger's arm. 

Roger pauses, then asks, "For me?" 

"... I have to go."

Crystal turns on his heel in one smooth rotation and stalks back to his car without looking back. 

"Right!" Roger calls after him, for some unknown reason his socked feet are rooted to his doorstep. "Right of course, of course. I see you around Chris!"

The van's engine rumbles and Roger takes it as his cue to shut the door with a silent click. Then he proceeds to slide down against it, until he is sitting on the floor with a dreamy sigh and the cheese in his lap. With not a clue why he’s weak in his knees.

🧀 🧀 🧀

Freddie had placed his order two weeks in advance, but still, the Cheeseman informs him that he ran out of Camembert before handing Freddie his delivery. 

He is in a bad mood for the rest of the night.

Because there is only one Cheeseman operational in their area, or at least, only one that could get Herreño for less than a hundred quid on a weeks notice. 

Freddie is still bitter about it for the rest of the weekend and bitterly consumes all his Valençay before he makes it to Rogers house for lunch the next day, still somewhat irritated but now also bloated on French cheese. 

Roger can immediately tell when Freddie is in a bad mood and leads him into the kitchen with a kind smile without needing to be prompted.

"Do sit down, I'll put on some music." 

Freddie flops down into one of the kitchen chairs and draws his hand under his chin with a sigh. 

Roger pops an lp into the record player and casts a look over his shoulder at Freddie. "What happened?"

He is already feeling immensely better when the first notes of Aretha's spirit in the dark rings through the kitchen. He shuts his eyes and lets the music consume him. 

"Hm? Oh nothing, really. Just a bad mood."

Roger hums in response, walking past Freddie to the kitchen. Freddie can smell the cheese from here, his nostrils flare out to inhale more of the strong and pleasant aroma. He peaks one eye open when Roger walks back to the table, holding the cheese platter with a gracious smile. 

Freddie tips up his chin to see what he has prepared for today and can't help the surprise from showing on his face when he sees Roger has cut them a number of expensive cheeses. 

"Want some Camembert?" Roger says with an ever-growing smugness. "Crystal gave me a good deal."

 _Camembert_. Roger never orders Camembert. Roger can hardly afford Camembert cheese on top of his own bland regular order. Let alone the Epoisses and Cambozola on the platter today, cheeses he couldn't pronounce to safe his life. 

Freddie narrows his eyes. That's _his_ Camembert he's picking off Rogers wooden platter. 

"The cheese guy gave you a good deal huh?" Freddie hums casually, biting through the glorious gooey softness in the middle. "Interesting," Freddie continuous when he reopens his eyes. "Because by the time he came to me, he did not have any Camembert left."

"Good I managed to get some, then." Roger says without missing a beat.

He puts the cheese platter on the table between them, before turning back around to pour the wine into their glasses on the counter.

Freddie glares at the back of Rogers neck, noting suspiciously that it is flushed pink.

🧀 🧀 🧀

Freddie waits until John is seated in the beanbag opposite to his before he speaks, casually spreading the goat cheese over his toast. "You know I am not a gossip."

John pauses."Of course."

"But," Freddie adds quickly. "Roger has been screwing the Cheeseman."

"What?" 

"For discounts." Freddie keeps himself from smirking at the shock on John's face. He is usually the one to figure out their secrets before everyone else. Then doubt settles in. John leans back in his bean bag and crosses his arms, still mindful of his creamy toast. 

"Are you sure?"

"About 64%." Freddie raises an eyebrow. "He hasn't admitted to it yet, but watch the signs. He had Cambozola on our Monday afternoon lunch platter. Come on. I have never heard him gone beyond Cheddar, Feta and Mozzarella."

"That _is_ odd, yes. For Rogers standard." 

Freddie waves his toast at John, pointing it at him. "Watch him and you'll see for yourself. Mark my words. Roger is screwing the Cheeseman and he is getting discounts for it."

🧀 🧀 🧀 

John doesn't actually believe Freddie at first, he knows better than to go off his word alone. 

A couple of days go by and nothing of the rumours come up again, so John forgets about it. 

Almost. 

It is only when he comes to pick Roger up to go to Brians when John finds an unmarked brown package on Rogers doormat. 

John pauses with his hand already raised, finger hovering over the bell. 

He drops into a joint popping crouch and peals the package open to find it filled to the brim with smelly, luxury cheeses. Granted, nearly all cheeses are a luxury these days, but these are the most peculiar, rare cheeses in the world today. Vieux Boulogne, Milbenkäse, Bitto Storico and many other cheeses Roger could never have afforded on his current salary. Besides. The Cheeseman would never leave an order unattended at someone’s doorstep. 

Eventually, after gawking at the open bag for a tad longer, inhaling the strong welcoming odour John decides to shut the package as if never touched and knock on the door. 

But not before sliding some Humboldt fog in his jacket pocket. 

Roger opens the door and greets him with a large smile, all dressed up and ready to go. "John!"

"Roger." He nonchalantly holds the package out to Roger. "Someone has left this for you."

Roger's eyebrows raise up to his fringe. He takes the package from John with a dazed expression.

"What? Where?"

"Right here on your front step." John scans Rogers reaction carefully when he opens the brown bag, noting how he brightens up at the revelation that it is all cheeses, but without a note. It is suspicious, John must give that to Freddie, who had observed Rogers odd behaviour early on. Of course, everyone would light up at getting free cheese, but this is different, other people would be surprised. "Everything alright?"

"Yes!" Roger's eyes dart up at him where he had been engrossed with the gift. "Yes of course, come on in. I've set some tea while we wait for Fred."

Roger holds the door open with his free hand and John steps over the threshold with a smile. Rogers house is always pleasantly warm (his gas bill is less pleasant), John shrugs off his coat and leaves it on the back of the couch, before he sinks down onto the leather cushions. 

He looks over his shoulder to watch Roger shuffle through the door with an unreadable expression spread across his usually very open face. 

He puts the gift down on the kitchen table and starts taking the cheeses out one by one. He holds each of them in his palms and pauses to look at the label and take in the smell. John reaches for the tea Roger had left for him on the coffee table and continues to strain his neck so he can watch Rogers every movement behind him.

John speaks up eventually when he thinks Roger has finished unpacking. "Quite an unusual gift." 

"What?" Roger jolts in surprise.

John narrows his eyes. "The cheese."

"Oh!" The flush returns to Roger's cheeks. He fumbles with the empty package. "Well, you know how it is. Have to get creative with presents these days."

"Certainly." John continues to stir his tea. Not pressing for details.

He knows enough. 

🧀 🧀 🧀

"You have to be more careful, you know?"

Crystal is still pocketing the money for this weeks delivery when he finally looks taken aback for the first time since he became Rogers smuggler. He is smirking, nonetheless. 

"What?"

"The cheese." Roger frowns pointedly. He hugs his arms around himself. "I'm being accused of being some kind of cheese whore for having that package laying around in my garden."

Crystal gives him a blank look. 

"You're joking right?"

"Is cheese a joke to you?" Roger hisses. What planet is Crystal on? "My whole reputation is on the line. Do you know what they'll say?"

"That you're fucking the Cheeseman for free cheese."

"And I'm not." Roger crosses his arms over his chest. He strangely doesn't care that he is looking like a child mid-tantrum. His face is hot, but for all the wrong reasons. 

Crystal must have noticed that he actually managed to work himself up, because suddenly the disbelieving look is wiped off his and replaced by a softened ghost of a smile. He leans forward and puts his hand on Roger's shoulder. Roger instantly notices how warm his palm is. And how steady. If the neighbors see him like this they will definitely think they are fucking. 

"Hey— it doesn't matter what they think." Crystal reminds him. "We haven't slept together _and_ you still get your free cheese."

Roger had dropped his eyes when Crystals intensely dark eyes began to consume him in his full attention. He does look up at Crystal again after a long pause, perhaps to stretch out the time that Crystal is touching his shoulder.

When Roger looks up Crystal has his arm stretched out with the package. His irritatingly attractive playful smile back in place.

"Does this mean I won't be invited in today?"

Roger's eyes widen. 

He takes the cheese from Crystal, but taking his time. Warmth spreads all over his body from where Crystal has yet to stop touching him. This is flirting, Roger realizes dumbly. Crystal is definitely flirting back. 

"Come by on Saturday. I know you don't do deliveries on Saturday." Roger says matter-of-factly. 

It is sad when Crystal retreats back to his van, but Roger knows it was inevitable. He hugs the cheese, a momentary substitute. 

"Saturday!" Crystal calls over his shoulder. "I'll bring some cheese!"

"Shhh!" Roger hisses, frantically sticking his head out the door to check if any of the neighbours heard it. 

🧀 🧀 🧀

Who knew that delivering cheese all day could make a man so strong? 

Roger must have said that out loud, because Crystal chuckles breathlessly, his hips not once breaking rhythm. "It's— Ahh, all the crates. Fuck."

He hikes Roger up higher against the wall with his hands under his thighs, keeping them spread far enough for Crystal to pin him in place and fuck into him viciously. Roger has never been fucked so hard in his life. On every thrust of Crystals hips, Roger sees stars. 

He tries very hard to keep up, grasping at Crystal and clawing at his back.

They had barely managed to discard their clothes, only after the second round, Roger managed to wrestle Crystals shirt off his perfectly muscular body. The perfect treat.

"Fuck, I'm close."

"You're so fucking tight. Jesus, Roger." Crystal can barely speak with how rapidly he is bucking his hips. Pistoning his large cock deep inside of him, until all Roger can do is incoherent babbling against the salty skin of Crystals neck and keeping his arms wrapped around him. Only hoping that Crystal will be able to hold his weight even after they orgasm. 

It does not take long for them both to reach their peak again. 

Roger is flung into his orgasm when Crystal keeps hitting his prostate dead on. From this angle, with gravity sinking Roger back onto his cock, the orgasm hits hard and long.

Crystal comes right after him when the tightness of Roger becomes too much.

The hot sound he makes is almost drowned out by Rogers own high pitched gasps, but Roger has his ear close to Crystal's neck and feels his throat vibrate with the low primal groan he lets out while filling Roger with his cum. 

They stay like that for longer than they either can remember. 

Roger protests weakly when Crystal begins to untangle their limbs, murmuring something about getting to the bed, but the thought of moving makes Rogers aching backside groan. 

"Hm, no." He clenches around Crystals shrinking dick when it inevitably slips out of him. He nips at the soft skin beneath Crystal's chin. "Don't want to move."

Crystals arms are trembling and he is putting as much of Rogers possible weight on the wall. It doesn't help that Roger becomes completely boneless after an orgasm. 

Crystal chuckles and despite all of Rogers protesting wobbles them both over to the bed. 

"You're heavier than you look." Crystals cheeks puff out with the strain of carrying Roger to bed. His face is red by the time he lowers Roger down. 

Roger spreads his arms wide, inviting Crystal to come lay on top of him. "That's not a very gentleman-thing to say."

Crystal obeys, but only partially. He climbs on top of Roger on his knees and bows down to kiss him long and hard on the lips. Roger closes his eyes and savours the feeling of soft but eager lips against his own, alongside the sweat cooling on his skin and the cum running down his thigh. 

Despite the brutish look and impressive muscles underneath the clothes that could never do Crystals physique justice, Crystal is surprisingly gentle in bed. Something Roger had not appreciated in men before, something he had not considered wanting either. Not before Crystal. 

"Where are you going?"

Roger hooks his ankle around Crystals to keep him pinned down when he feels Crystal shift upright to get away.

"I've got other places to be." Crystal teases by pinching Rogers side and then looks at his imaginary watch on his wrist. "I've got another client at two who wants some discount cheese."

Roger slaps Crystal's arm. Crystal laughs. 

"Shut up."

"Alright." Crystal hums and for the last time closes the distance between them, kissing Roger hard on the mouth, until Roger sinks into the bedding with a languid sigh.

Admittedly the sex has wrung him out. His legs are like jelly, his fingertips are tingling and his mind buzzes in the aftershock of his orgasms.

Crystal notices it when Roger's lips stop moving mid-kiss and when Crystal leans back carefully, Roger's eyes don't open again. 

With a snort, Crystal pushes himself to his feet and finds his clothes in puddles on the floor and puts them back on over his sweaty body. He's got a shipment coming in from France, so he'll have to shower after the drive. 

The uncomfortable clothes remind him of Roger, at least, he thinks wryly, while dragging the sheets over Rogers sleeping body.

He doesn't as much as stir when Crystal covers him up, pink face mashed in the bedding and his lips are parted on a snore. 

Crystal leaves Roger after that, but not before kissing Rogers bare shoulder blade when he thinks Roger is fast asleep. 

🧀 🧀 🧀

John is just about to round the corner into Rogers street when he sees the white van roll out of Rogers driveway. Hitting the brakes, John grips the steering wheel and waits at the corner of the street until he is certain Cheesemans van is out of sight and hasn't spotted him. 

It's Saturday, there are no cheese deliveries on a Saturday. 

That can only mean one thing. 

John drives into the now empty parking spot in front of Rogers house and jumps out faster than considered casual. He hastes over to the front door and rings the bell two times.

It is a test, of course. One that Roger does not pass.

It takes him seven minutes to come down to the front door to answer it, but even then it is undeniable that Roger has had the daylight fucked out of him. His clothes are barely on his body, his eyes are bright and hazy and his hair sticks up in every which way.

He greets John with a surprised, "Deacky?" That is equally adorable and reaffirming. "What brings you here?"

"I just thought I'd come by and see how you were getting on." John smiles back, cursing how infectious Rogers flashing beams are. 

Roger lazily leans back to drag the door open with his bodyweight. He _winces_ , but tries to cover it up with another big smile. "Come on in then. I'll make some tea."

John steps inside the house and leads the way into the living room and kitchen with determination in his stance. He knows what he has to do.

Two can play that game.

🧀 🧀 🧀

People are staring at him.

Gawking and whispering their venom when they think he is out of ear range. He doesn't need to hear what they are saying exactly, the words _Cheeseman_ and _fucking_ are easy enough to read on someone's lips. 

Roger promptly ignores the eyes that are on him on each aisle as he follows Brian around the grocery store, pushing his friends' cart for him to have something to lean on. 

He nearly bumps into Brian when he comes to an abrupt stop in front of the cheese section. 

Without wearing his glasses Roger can't see what the prices are, but from Brians grimace when he picks up a block of Robiola and promptly puts it back, he knows it's gone up again. Brian doesn't like being involved in the smuggling business and has gone mostly vegan anyway. 

"I've got some of that at home." Roger comments wryly when Brian turns back to him. "I can give you that for a tenner." 

Brian blinks at Roger, and then ducks his head sheepishly. 

"So it is true?"

Roger doesn't bother replying. He pushes the cart around Brian with a huff and promptly ignores him when he follows after him hastily with more questions. Roger is leading now, Brian jogging after him.

"You are fucking the Cheeseman."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Roger replies, rolling past the cereal aisle fast, knowing full well Brian has enough stuff to get from the shelves. 

Brian and his stupidly long legs easily catch up. He even manages to throw his oats in the cart Roger tries to manoeuvre away. 

"Well it's what everyone is saying." Brian huffs. He puts a hand on the cart to slow Roger down. He leans in so only Roger can hear him whisper. "How good is the discount?"

"It's not about the discount."

"So you _are_ getting a discount." _Bugger_. " Come on Roger," Brian continues. This time he stops the cart completely and nearly trips Roger up. "That's low, even for you."

Roger gives up on the cart and pushes Brian aside rougher than necessary. "I'm leaving."

"Roger?" Brian calls after him, but knows better than to follow him when he has pissed him off. "Roger?! Am I still getting that Robiola?"

Roger walks to the exit without looking back. "Fuck off!"

🧀 🧀 🧀

"I should buy a goat, make my own cheese."

Crystal laughs and with his impressive arm strength rolls Roger over, so that he is splayed across Crystals chest. The smuggler pushes his lips against Roger's forehead and asks, "That bad?"

Roger pushes his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. "Everyone is talking."

Crystal exhales in amusement. He draws a strand of hair behind Roger's ear to expose more of his face to him. Roger leans into the touch with his eyes shut, feeling strangely like purring when Crystal touches him like that. 

Eventually, Crystal cups Roger's chin in his hand and forces him to look up at his stupid reassuring smile. 

"C'mon Rog, it's just talk."

"Well I don't like it." Roger huffs back. 

Crystal bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling, an effort that Roger appreciates greatly. 

"I could stop giving you free cheese."

Roger pauses, but then nearly instantly shakes his head. "No."

"Then we could stop having sex." Crystal suggests then, this time barely containing the grin threatening to spread across his wonderful face. 

Besides the fact that Crystal is the best shag Roger has ever had in his entire _very_ experienced life, he truly likes Crystal, and his default mismatching socks, his rough palms with gentle touches and receding hairline. The cheese is nice too, really nice. But there is a lot about Crystal that Roger cannot shut out even when he closes his eyes and squeezes really hard. He still sees him then. 

He knows that any talk out there is nowhere near as important as that.

Roger slings one leg over Crystal's hips and promptly drops himself upright in his lap. He puts his hands on Crystals muscular chest for balance and grins down at him. 

"You're not going anywhere."

🧀 🧀 🧀

Roger shows up at Dominique's party fashionably late. 

It is her out of all people who opens the door for him. "Roger! You managed to find it then."

"Happy birthday, Dom." He holds out the small gift Brian had been kind enough to wrap up for him with a bright smile, hoping she would forgive him for showing up so late. 

Dominique peels the nearly wrapped paper away to peer inside. Then she looks up with a frown. "No cheese?"

Roger groans. 

"Not you too." 

"Sorry, I love it, thank you!" She holds up the small necklace with a grin. She then puts it back inside the box to pull him by his arm inside the house. "Welcome, come on in." 

Luckily his absence would not have gone noticed in the crowd. There are at least a hundred people cramped into Dominique's little living room. There is booze going around and sweat in the air, the music causes the walls to vibrate and Rogers feet on to tap on the hardwood floor. 

Roger is nowhere near as drunk as everyone else dancing and grinding to Dominique's favourite records. 

"Drinks are in the kitchen!" Dominique cups her hand over his ear to shout over the music. "You know where to find it."

"Thank you!" Roger shouts back. "Are the boys already here by any chance?"

"Freddie was in the garden having a smoke with Jim last I checked. He is pissed though, love. You'll have to catch up on all the drinks you've missed!"

She flashes Roger her teeth in a smile, Roger only then realizes how drunk she is herself, clutching her gift to her chest and swaying to the music out of rhythm. He smiles back at her, attempting to match her energy.

"We all know it doesn't take much for me to catch up."

It makes her laugh. Dominique clasps his back before walking in the opposite direction, arms raised and mingling with the rest of her brigade. 

This would usually be the place where Roger would feel the most at ease, crowds, music, dark rooms and people. But today he is feeling out of his element. 

A drink or two would help ease him out of this uneasy mindset. 

He crosses the room to the kitchen, tucked neatly in the corner. He wishes he had Crystal by his side, or even Freddie to crack a joke about how miserable he is looking. Dominique hadn't noticed in her state of tipsy. Or maybe his Pokerface has gotten better. 

There are people here too. They are everywhere. 

Roger brushes a girl to the side to get to the makeshift bar Dominique has set up for her guests. He pours himself a drink in one of the plastic cups he hopes hasn't been used already.

It is mostly vodka he puts in there mixed with some lukewarm cranberry juice. He grimaces as the too-warm liquid runs down his throat. The vodka burns, but at least his insides heat up to match his exterior. 

Roger peels his jacket off and throws it over his shoulder, before instantly going for his second drink.

"—the cheesewhore who—”

He should not have heard the hushed whisper with how many noises are bouncing the walls in the tiny house, but Roger feels suddenly like all the eyes in the kitchen are on him. He has no clue who was speaking, but when he looks up from his drink the person and everyone else falls silent. 

Roger truly, could have handled being called a whore any day, by anyone, really, but today is not his day. 

He slams his drink back onto the countertop with a loud clatter. Sending splatters of vodka everywhere, but mostly over himself. 

"For fucks sake!" He yells at nobody in particular. "I am not fucking the Cheeseman for discount cheese." He glares and grits his teeth, almost baring them to the awkward crowd. "I am fucking the Cheeseman and received a cheese discount. There is a difference."

A sudden tug on his arm nearly causes Roger to bawl his fists is up and punch the person in the face, before he sees it is Freddie— thank God. Smelling like alcohol and smoke. 

He is frowning and confused as he drags Roger away from the scene he had created. "Oh Dear, what are you talking about?"

Roger can breathe a little easier in the hallway, when he is alone with Freddie, but that doesn't stop his racing heart and pounding head. He is angry, because surely, this is nobody's business but his own. And Crystal.

"Everyone is talking about me, I'm the butt of every joke and I can't bloody stand it." Roger pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks up at the ceiling so he doesn't have to see the pity that crosses Freddie's face. "Don't act like you haven't heard it."

"Roger..."

"Who am I kidding? It was probably you who started the rumour." 

Roger tugs his arm free from Freddie's grip and pushes past him to get to the front door in a sudden desperate need to get out. Coming was a mistake when he was feeling miserable to begin with. 

Freddie does not give up, something Roger finds both infuriating and his best attribute. 

"That's not fair. Hey! Rog!" He lunges himself at Roger, nearly tackling him before he gets out the door. Roger "Oof"s, but manages to keep them both on their feet. 

"Come on," Freddie continues. "You can't blame us for pointing out what it looks like. We are not judging you," He stops and Roger allows himself to be turned around by his wrist. Freddie is sporting his puppy-eyes pout. It would be more effective without the drunken hiccup. "I'd do the same as you if I wasn't taken already... It just goes a bit far, doesn't it? For _cheese_.” Roger tugs his arm free and rolls his eyes, before he starts walking away. This time Freddie knows better than to go after him. "I was joking! Rog, come back! Come on!"

"You are not joking." Roger calls back, without turning around.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and walks a little faster when he hears Freddie shout louder across the street. 

"Alright! Alright sorry!" Freddie pauses, Roger pauses too and turns back to watch Freddie take in a lungful of air. "You admitted it though." Freddie grins. "You did fuck the Cheeseman.” Roger starts to walk away again. 

"You're smart Taylor. Saving yourself a fortune!"

🧀 🧀 🧀

The Cheeseman's car shows up at 2 o'clock, the usual time, John has been ready since the wee hours of the morning. 

Before the balding man has even parked his van is fully parked, John slings the door open and waits expectantly in the opening. He makes sure to brighten up when the Cheeseman comes into line of sight. 

"Afternoon." 

"Hi." John beams back at him. The man pauses halfway through handing over the brown package at Johns flirtatious tone. _Take a hint!_ John twirls a strand of hair between his fingers. "Is everything alright today?"

"Uh... Yeah? And are you?" He asks slowly, much more sceptical than John would have liked.

It probably was not a solid plan to go from ice cold to take-me-to-bed in one go, but John is urgent enough to try. At least. 

He tries for another, more natural charming smile. It is a lot less severe and the Cheesemans frown ceases somewhat when John relaxes too. 

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you. What do you have for me today?" John asks, batting his eyelashes the way Roger does in a moment of desperation. 

The frown is replaced by a blank look. "Uh," The man holds out the bag to John. "Your order."

John takes it from him and makes sure to brush his fingers against the Cheesemans hand when he does. 

"Thank you, complete as usual?"

"Yes, of course." The man looks down at his shoes and clears his throat. "We were low on Humboldt fog, but I managed to get you two instead of the three. You know how things are."

John fiddles with the edges of the bag, but never ceases to smile. "Thank you." He says, and then from under his eyelashes, he looks up at him, coyly. "I suppose there isn't a way to get earn a third one from you, is there?"

The Cheeseman _is_ admittedly rather attractive in this lighting, with the sun catching in his deep brown eyes and his shirt hugging his sculpted chest. 

That'll make the next part much more pleasant. 

"Uhm. I've got other clients who have also ordered it and it's better to distribute them more evenly."

"I'm certain that other clients wouldn't ask you to come in and have a drink, would they?" The corner of John's lip tugs upwards as he makes the suggestion and the intentions behind them known. 

The Cheeseman's face is nowhere near as handsome when he is wearing that disconcerted expression. "What?"

John has to use every fibre of his being to stop himself from rolling his eyes back into his skull. 

He grabs the man by the arm and pulls him towards the house. 

"Come inside and have a drink. We can discuss the Humboldt fog again after."

Although John tries to tug the man while also maintaining his charming smile, the Cheeseman oddly refuses to budge. He has both feet planted firmly to Johns worn 'welcome' mat. His face is set equally stoic. 

Only when John stops pulling and his face falls, does the Cheesemans expression change to apologetic. 

"I'm not coming in for a drink, John. But I think next month the Humboldt fog will be in supply again." He pauses, before holding out his hand. "That'll be £178,-."

His bruised ego clenches when John fumbles for his wallet in his backpocket, and fishes out the right number of bills to pay for his cheese. There he thought he was way above the Cheeseman league. 

"Here." John comments dryly after giving the man his crumbled bills. 

He does not wait around any longer and pockets the money on his way back to the van. John watches him leave with a sense of defeat, feeling both lame and thwarted. 

In a perfect world, John would be on his back right about now, being pounded by the beefy cheese smuggler and enjoying his beloved Humboldt fog after, but as it seems now, fate will not have it now. 

Crystals heart belongs to another.

🧀 🧀 🧀

Crystal finds Roger in the living room, stretched out on the couch leisurely like a cat. He rolls onto his belly at the sound of the door, but his grin falters when he takes in the expression on Crystals face.

"Everything alright?"

He doesn't answer at first. He rounds the coffee table and sits down on the edge of the couch. 

Roger has never before seen Crystal look _incredulous_. Foreboding bad news.

He pushes himself upright and crawls into Crystals space to put a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?" 

Fumbling with words is nothing like him, but Crystal struggles momentarily, before he covers Rogers hand with his own. 

"—I think I've given people the impression that they too, can get discounts on their cheese."

Roger stops dead in tracks. 

He narrows his eyes. 

"What happened?"

"I really can't give you any names or personal information of my clients—"

Roger squeezes his hand insistently. "What happened?"

Crystal rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. Roger couldn't care less. He waits until Crystal turns his chin down to face him again and sighs. 

"A client tried to seduce me into giving them my last Humboldt fog, but nothing happened, I promise. Alright?"

"Humbold—" Rogers jaw drops. "John!" 

🧀 🧀 🧀

"Roger?" John frowns in surprise when he sees Roger behind the door. "What a surprise to have you— Sure come in."

Roger brushes past John into the house and waits to speak until John has closed the door, he does not need the neighbourhood to hear even more of his business. 

Sensing something is wrong John shuts the door fast with a final click. That’s when Roger turns to him and jabs an accusing finger into his chest. 

"Did you try to fuck Crystal?!"

There is really no point in denying it. John shrugs, but lacks certainty where his face is usually blank, as if he doesn't comprehend what's going on. "Just for the cheese." He says. 

Roger clenches his jaw and turns his finger to himself. 

" _I'm_ fucking Crystal."

"I know but—” John stops himself from speaking before he says anything stupid. He takes this as a moment to look at Roger, really looks at him, the way that made Roger consider John has x-ray vision. It takes just that for the realization to suddenly sinks in. "You're actually serious." The tightness around Johns eyes soften and he tentatively reaches out to touch Roger's arm, suddenly feeling like an utter dickhead. "Oh Roger, I'm sorry."

Roger flexes his fingers out and forces himself to breathe when he hadn't for a while.

Sensing he is still on thin ice, John continues. 

"If I knew you and the Cheeseman were serious I wouldn't—” 

"His name is Crystal."

"Right, sorry. Crystal." John will have to get used to that. He tries the name on his tongue. " _Crystal_. You may rest assured. He was very insistent on being loyal to you."

Roger unlocks his jaw. "Was he?" He asks tentatively, now having dropped the betrayal from his tone. 

John nods solemnly. "I got the message right away."

"No free cheese?" Roger asks in the same cautious tone. John manages a smile, then. As hesitant as Rogers forgiveness. 

"Nothing of the sorts..." He reassures further, then sheepishly asks, "Are we okay?"

After barely a second Roger decidedly wraps his arms around John and pulls him flush against him in a tight embrace. 

"You could bribe me with some Feta and olives I know you have in your fridge."

John chuckles and nods in favour. "Of course, if you tell me everything that's going on between you and Crystal."

🧀 🧀 🧀

"I still can't believe Roger is dating the cheese smuggler." Brian murmurs under his breath. 

"Shut up." Freddie says, stuffing his face with more cheese and licking the crumbs off his fingertips. "Hm! I haven't had Manchego Viejo in _years_."

"Stop those pornographic noises, it's obscene." John comments dryly with his teeth sunken deep into his creamy Livarot. He shuts his eyes to savour the zest. And adds with his mouth-full, "If this is not heaven, then I don't know what is."

"Free cheese and a sunny afternoon?" Brian asks, to which John and Freddie answer "Yes." In unison. 

It is the first true spring day of the year and the perfect opportunity for their first outside luncheon of the season. Freddie had brought some lawn chairs from his own home, while John sorted drinks, Brian had baked bread, Roger did the music and Crystal brought them the end-of-the-month cheese surplus. 

They are all seated outside in the middle of Rogers garden bathing in the beams of sunlight that cast over the backyard. 

Roger returns from the kitchen with another basket of Brians bread, now sliced, and upon his return drops himself into Crystal's lap even if there is a perfectly fine empty chair next to him, whilst grinning like a child with ice cream— or cheese. 

"It all worked out perfectly, in the end. Roger and the Cheeseman.” Freddie sighs dreamily at the couple in front of him. He nudges John with his elbow and adds in a lower tone. "I'm sure Crystal has some single colleagues."

Roger is oblivious to their shenanigans as he blindly plucks cheese off the platter on the table and starts nibbling at it with an unbearable air of smug self-satisfaction. 

Crystal keeps Roger from sliding off by wrapping an arm around his waist, looking without having to grin, equally utterly happy and at ease with Roger in his lap. 

Roger offers Crystal a bite of the cheese too, but Crystal declines the offer with a chaste kiss on the lips. 

"I'm lactose intolerant."

**Author's Note:**

> let me know if you enjoyed if ❤️ 😘 and have a lovely week


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